


Solitary Gods

by Akira_of_the_Twilight



Category: Guardians of the Galaxy (Movies), Iron Man (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Gods & Goddesses, Idiots in Love, Love at First Sight, M/M, Mythical Beings & Creatures, Mythology - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-11
Updated: 2017-08-22
Packaged: 2018-12-13 23:15:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 8,257
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11770479
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Akira_of_the_Twilight/pseuds/Akira_of_the_Twilight
Summary: As the god of music, to go a day without crafting a song is great torture to Peter, and he had gone several now.As he peers out into the night sky, though, inspiration comes in the form of a death god dancing among the souls of the deceased.Like the souls the death god guides, Peter is entranced by the god, and plots a way to lure the other god to him.What follows could be a symphony of joy or disaster.





	1. Chapter 1

Peter huffed in frustration as the notes he played on the harp were as irritating as a full-body rash. He shoved himself off his stool and stomped over to his sitar and plucked the strings. He gritted his teeth as another atrocious sound came from the instrument. There was a song in his head that floated just beyond his grasp. It pleaded for him to breathe it into existence. He heard it whisper along his ears, yet whenever he picked up an instrument to play, the wrong sound came out.

It had been like this for days, and while other deities would think a few days nothing, for Peter days without creating new music was torture. He was a god of sound—the god of music. To go a day without stringing notes together would be like a mortal not breathing for minutes on end.

Peter took a breath and looked about his room of instruments. He waited for the moment that one would stand out to him and beckon him to it, but all of his instruments—his tools—were little more than carcasses collecting dust.

“I sense your frustration, my son.” Ego, Peter’s father and a god of creation, formed from the shadows of Peter’s room. He had taken on a form similar to Peter’s, appearing as an older human man with still quite a bit of youth and energy. His eyes appeared like that of terran men, but there was still a shimmer to his gaze that was an echo of his true eyes.

Ego surveyed the room that Peter had let fallen dark after his first few days of struggling to compose the song that danced through his head like a nymph.

Ego strode up to Peter and rested his hand on Peter’s shoulder. “This world of ours that I have created quakes with your frustration and cries out in sympathy.”

Peter huffed, not believing his father for a moment. The planet that they lived on was one of Ego’s creation and followed Ego’s will. It would not react sympathetically to Peter’s emotions, unless his father willed it so.

And if Ego were willing the planet to respond to Peter, then Ego was up to something, and Peter was not keen on being manipulated.

“I’m telling you the truth.” Ego dropped his hand from Peter’s shoulder. He looked forlornly toward the balcony then back at Peter. With a soft yet sad smile, Ego nodded at the balcony then strolled over to it.

Peter sighed and followed his father.

Night had fallen on the planet, yet from balcony of his palace, Peter could see the mountains and rivers crafted by his father in the distance. The black sky shined with silver light, and Peter felt a tug of inspiration, but the notes that came to him leaped on one another—dog piling—making it impossible for him to discern the music that wished to be born.

The stars in the sky were not the same ones that had been there the previous night.

“You’ve moved us,” Peter stated. Annoyance at having not been consulted on the move itched under Peter’s skin, but he kept his words to himself. It wasn’t unusual for Ego to move their home from time to time. Peter was just feeling a little more irritable due to his lack of creative output, and he refused to take it out on his father.

Ego smiled and gestured at the night sky. “Stay out here for a little while, and I promise you will see something that will at the very least entertain you, if not inspire you.”

Peter crossed his arms and rested them on the balcony as he leaned forward. “Sure thing, Dad.”

Ego was not perturbed by Peter’s sarcasm in the slightest. He patted Peter’s shoulder one last time as he promised Peter that he would not be disappointed as long as he waited just a tad. Ego then broke contact with Peter. When he did, his physical manifestation sparkled and faded until it had vanished.

Peter let out a long breath as he peered at the sky. He and his father had very different opinions on what was interesting, but at that point, Peter was so desperate for something to come along and punch the music out of him that he was willing to play along with his father’s machinations.

A swarm of lights swirled in the eastern sky.

Peter lifted his head, his attention piqued.

The lights drew near. They twinkled and swirled, and carried with them a joyous laugh.

It wasn’t until the lights hovered just a little aways from Peter that he could see that the lights were the souls of mortals, and dancing in the center of them was a figure dressed in a red and gold cloak who wore a white fox mask with red painted marks. The man was in constant movement. He pranced on the balls of feet, and danced from one soul to the next, teasing them with touches and gentle pushes onward.

The souls slowed down and stopped above Peter.

The fox-man paused in his dance amongst the stars and souls. Two black holes made up the eyes of the mask, and those eyes studied Peter. The man cocked his head for a moment then straightened.  With a laugh, he flew to the front of the souls and waved them onward, encouraging them once again with his dance and touches.

Needing only the man’s encouragement, the souls followed the fox-man through the sky and away from Peter and his home.

Peter watched until the last soul was out of sight.

Alone, he sucked in a deep breath.

Clarity hit him, and he knew exactly what notes he wished to play and with what instruments. He rushed into his room and seated himself at the grand piano. Slow, soft notes dripped from his fingertips then flowed into a torrent of shifting sounds of happiness and wonder. His newfound melody was just the beginnings of a symphony.

* * *

Peter had not joined his father for breakfast the following morning. His head was overflowing with sounds, but whereas before he couldn’t bring his music to life, now he struggled to decide which music he wished to play. He jumped from instrument to instrument, as he shifted between songs. He did not have the patience to eat that morning, especially when, unlike mortals, it wasn’t necessary for him to eat multiple times in one day.

However, the act of having breakfast with his father was routine, so he was not surprised when Ego appeared in his room hours later.

Ego grinned as he seated himself on the piano bench.

Peter strummed a guitar before setting the guitar down and jumping to the drums.

“So the procession of dead inspired you after all,” Ego said.

“You could say that.” Peter drummed out a lax rhythm then stopped. The hours he’d spent crafting music that morning had been filled with thoughts of the fox-man who had led the souls through the sky. “What was up with the fox guy?”

Ego frowned and tilted his head. For a beat, Ego’s human-like eyes flickered into black orbs that looked like the night sky, then returned to their human-like appearance. “Ah! Anthony, or Tony as I hear he likes to be called now.” Ego chuckled. “He would be Death’s son. A god like yourself; however, he has grown fond of playing reaper. I’ve heard that he likes to wear masks as he leads the dead to their final resting place.”

“Tony,” Peter repeated, getting a feel for the name on his lips.

Ego nodded. “He’s known for guiding the souls through this area. I am happy you got to see the souls he had gathered. I’ve always found the procession of the dead to be a beautiful sight. I’m glad in the end you found it so too.”

Peter moved away from his drums. He stroked his fingers along the strings of his pedal harp. The souls had been nice to look at, but Peter would be lying if he said that they had been the source of his inspiration. Tony’s graceful movements as he played with the souls and guided them had been what had intrigued him and given him clarity.   

“It really helped.” Peter looked to his father. “We’ll be staying here for some time, right?”

“The universe needs music, and for there to be music you must be inspired.” Ego chuckled. “I’d be a rather cruel god if I took you away from your inspiration so soon.”

Peter didn’t comment. Instead he picked up his flute and began to work on a song that could entrance the dead, and perhaps a god-turned reaper too.


	2. Chapter 2

Peter leaned into the corner of his balcony, his flute at his hip as he watched the night sky. He stood with his arms folded across his chest and his head craned eastward. He wouldn’t play anything tonight, he told himself, despite his fingers twitching and his gut churning with the urge to do so. His song wasn’t ready. It wasn’t good enough to lure a soul to him, especially one being beguiled and seduced by a god such as Tony.

The the silver, blue, and purple twinkles of souls encroached the eastern sky. They were but specks in the distance, but to Peter they were as bright as suns.

He pushed his weight off the balcony’s rail and took on a more relaxed pose.

Three orange flames bounced amongst the souls, and lit up their juggler. The red and gold cloak Tony had worn before was gone, and in its place were robes of white feathers with crimson and tips. The fox mask had been replaced by white owl mask that allowed for the dark tips of Tony’s hair to peek out from the top.

With graceful arm movements, Tony controlled the three flames in a way no mortal could. His dance was slow tonight. His movements languid. With his flames he herded the souls. He murmured soft words to them, and, for a moment, sang a wordless tune.

Peter’s heart lurched at the music Tony produced with his vocal cords. He wanted nothing more than join Tony in song at that very instant. He wanted that so much that his hand flew to the flute at his hip. It wasn’t until he’d brought the flute as high as his chin that he realized he had almost made a fatal mistake.

Peter lowered the flute and focused his attention on Tony and the souls.

While Tony’s flames did a lazy loop around the souls, Tony had stopped. He stared at Peter once again with the black eyes of his mask.

Tony only stared for a few seconds then tore his gaze away. With a small, graceful jump, Tony soared off through the sky.

Peter released a shaky breath once Tony and the souls were gone.

With clumsy hands, Peter brought the flute to his lips and played.

He’d have mastered his song by next evening, and then he’d lure Tony down to him.

* * *

The following evening came faster than Peter had anticipated, but he was more than ready by the time the sun set. As the souls approached his home, he raised his flute to his lips. Once he could see Tony’s figure amongst the cloud souls approaching his home, he played a jaunty and infectious tune. He watched how the souls followed Tony so seamlessly, but began to bounce and zoom around each other as the music touched them.

Tony, dressed in black robes lined in gold and wearing a wolf mask with a mane of white fur, jerked to a stop in his dance. His head moved about, but he did not look to Peter. Instead, he surveyed the souls.

Peter kept playing, silently willing at least one soul to depart from the group and come toward him.

With a shake of his head, Tony glided through the sky. He touched each soul, quelling their excitement.

Peter’s heart jumped to his throat. He thought he’d crafted a song that could lure a soul to him. Had he been wrong? Too confident?

Just as despair threatened to pierce his heart with its cruel talons, one soul drifted away from the group.

Hope flared in Peter’s chest, and he nearly fumbled his notes in his excitement. He watched with rapt attention as the soul floated down to him. He wished to touch it and whisper thanks to the soul, but he dared not stop playing in fear that the soul would fly away from him.

The soul circled Peter, skipping about in delight.

Peter inwardly chuckled, his eyes trailing the soul.

“You know, if you wanted my attention you didn’t have to steal one of my souls from me. You could have just said ‘Hi.’”

Peter startled and stopped playing. He snapped his head in direction of the voice, and came nose to nose with the muzzle of the Tony’s wolf mask. Amber eyes twinkled with mischief through the eye holes of the mask.

Tony crouched on the balcony railing. His arms lay lax on his knees.

Like a frightened child, the soul Peter had lured to him scrambled away from him once the music stopped, and it hid behind Tony.

Tony turned his head and cooed at the soul. He reached behind himself and stroked the soul.

“I wasn’t trying to steal any souls from you. I was just playing my flute.” Peter put on a jovial act, while also taking a subtle step back so there was some breathing room between Tony and him. “I’m Peter, god of music.” Peter extended his hand in greeting.

Tony tilted his head, the mane of his mask cascading over his shoulder. “It’s never wise to lie to a death god, Peter. We can see into the souls of mortals and immortals alike. We know when you are lying.”

Heat spread up Peter’s neck to his cheeks. He flailed his hands at his sides. “What? I’m not-”

Tony chuckled. “Are you sure you want to lie again?”

Peter paused. Embarrassment swept through him. He hung his head sheepishly, but kept up a friendly smile. He couldn’t help but smile now that he had Tony’s attention. “You caught me. I’m sorry.”

“I’ll forgive you.” Tony held up a solitary finger. “But just this once.”

Peter clasped his hands together and in exaggerated sweet tone said, “You’re too kind.”

“Only to brilliant souls, such as yourself.”

Energy pumped through Peter. His chest fluttered with delight. Tony was flirting with him.

Peter’s happiness was cut short  when Tony straightened out of his crouch and stood.

“It was nice to meet you, Peter, but duty calls.”

Just as Peter’s fingers had twitched the night before to pull out his flute and play for Tony then, his fingers now longed to grasp Tony and pull the death god off the balcony and into his abode.

Tony twisted around to cup the shy soul behind his back and bring it to his front. The soul wiggled in his loose grasp until Tony caressed it with the back of his hand. The soul then slouched like a feline left to bask in the sun.

“Until tomorrow?” Tony asked.

With just those two words Peter’s happiness and hope were restored. “Until then, and perhaps next time, you’ll let me see your face.” Peter winked at Tony.

“Perhaps,” Tony answered lightly. “Only if the souls are unable to see. They can become attached to their guides, and that attachment can carry on into their next life if they are reborn. Because of that, I prefer to hide my face. For a god of music though, I suppose if the opportunity arises, I can take a moment to pull off my mask.”

Tony hopped off the balcony and soared back into the sky, not giving Peter the chance to reply.

Tony released the wayward soul among its brethren then turned to glance over his shoulder at Peter.

Peter grinned from ear to ear. “I’m going to hold you to that,” he hollered.

“Just remember not to lure any of my souls away,” Tony shouted back, laughter in his voice.

Tony spun and took off in a dance with the souls.

Like the two nights before, Peter watched Tony and the souls leave, and just as before, he was overwhelmed with inspiration and the sound of music in his head.

* * *

Up until the moment Tony arrived again with his souls, Petey bounced from instrument to instrument, crafting short, delightful songs. When night fell, he kept his eyes on the sky as he set a steady beat with his hand drums. Once he could see the souls in the sky, Peter ended his session with the percussion instruments. He plucked up a jug from the floor and went onto the balcony.

His lips curved into a smile as Tony neared, an expression he had to stamp down if he wished to gift Tony with a special type of music that evening.

Taking in a deep breath, Peter blew into the jug. The music he produced with the jug was simple--not grand enough to lure a soul away from Tony. It was unique and would catch Tony’s attention though.

The souls flew overhead, and Tony’s laughter filtered through them. A white cat mask covered just Tony’s face; his dark hair was free to poke out from behind the mask. Matching white robes with a red sash billowed around Tony as he departed from the throng of souls and soared down to Peter’s balcony, once again taking his perch on the rail.

“A jug?” Amusement tinged Tony’s voice.

Peter pulled the jug away from his mouth. His cheeks hurt from smiling so widely. “Only the best for my favorite death god.”

“Favorite? You have some low standards if I’m your favorite. We’ve barely talked.”

“That’s more than any other conversation I’ve had with a death god, which is none, by the way. You’re my first death god.”

Tony rubbed his hands together and hummed lecherously. “Ah, so your death god chastity is mine. I’m honored that I get to be your first.”

You could be my first death god in more ways than one, Peter thought. He was almost bold enough to say the words aloud. The words had touched the tip of his tongue, but the mask Tony wore was a reminder that as friendly as Tony was being with him, they were still building a bridge to cross the canyon of the unknown between them. A provocative statement such as that one could destroy the humble beginnings of their tentative relationship.

“If I told you, you are the smartest and most handsome death god I have ever met, I guess it wouldn’t mean much, would it?” Peter chuckled as he rubbed the back of his neck to keep from reaching out and touching Tony.

Tony made a contemplative sound as he cocked his head. His finger tapped against the mouth of his mask. “Well, luckily for you, I am the smartest death god there is, so you wouldn’t just be getting by on a technicality for that. As for most handsome, that’s objective, so…”

Tony pushed up his cat mask. Eyes that could be liken to amber and whiskey glittered with mischief that was echoed in the curve of fine lips set in a strong jaw. A stylized goatee mapped the edges of Tony’s mouth and created an hourglass shape between his bottom and chin.

“What do you think?” Tony asked.

Peter stared. There were number of words that Peter could use to describe what he thought about Tony, but the ones that left his mouth were: “I want to kiss you.”

Panic at his boldness flared in Peter’s chest, but was it smothered by Tony’s wry grin.

“I don’t know.” Tony crossed his arms in front of his chest and lounged back. “First, you want to see my face, and now you want to kiss me? You keep this up, and you’ll be pledging your life to me in a few days.”

Peter sputtered as his cheeks burned with embarrassment. “I will not.”

“You think so?” Tony asked innocently.

Peter puffed up his chest. “I know so.”

“Good.” As soon as Tony spoke the word, he leaned into Peter. Without any other warning, he captured Peter’s lips. Sparks shot up Peter’s spine. He barely got a sense or taste of Tony’s lips before Tony pulled away, but it was just enough to leave his brain purring, _good_.

“Hate to kiss and fly, but I have a deadline.” Tony guffawed at his pun. He pulled down his mask and leaped off the balcony. He flew to his souls. With a flick of his wrist, the flames that had kept the souls corralled changed their circular movements and took on a happy dance that guided the souls through the night.   

As Peter watched Tony go, one thing was clear to him: Tony had been absolutely right. Eventually, he would pledge his life to Tony if this courtship of theirs kept up.


	3. Chapter 3

Every night for many days, Tony joined Peter on his balcony, and traded flirtatious quips and smiles. Kisses were brief and were not promised with every visit, which made them all the more enjoyable and precious whenever Peter and Tony shared them. Whether their kisses were chaste or passionate, their lips liked to linger, and soon Peter noticed that like their lips, Tony liked to linger. 

His visits were never long enough—only a few cherished minutes at most. Because of that, Peter felt the seconds they were together deep in his soul, and he knew whenever Tony stayed a second longer than anticipated. Those extra seconds felt like fireworks. Hot. Explosive. Thrilling. Beautiful. 

It made it all that much harder to let Tony ago. 

As Tony broke their kiss, amber eyes met Peter’s in sorrow. The fingers Tony had in Peter’s hair scraped lovingly across the back of Peter’s skull in a gentle massage. Tony closed his eyes and took a deep breath. He steeled himself for the words he said every night in one variation or another. 

Peter gripped the hand Tony held at his hip and squeezed it tight. “Take me with you.” 

Tony’s bones jumped violently in his skin. “I am not abducting you.”

Peter smiled. The hand he had on Tony’s cradle stroked the muscles hidden under layers of clothing. “It’s not abduction if I ask you to take me.”

“I don’t think your father would agree.” 

“My father sees everything on this planet; he’d know I’d volunteered, which would make him an asshole if he tried to play it like my disappearance was anything other than that. Not that it matters, though.” Peter took advantage of his hand being on Tony’s back and pushed Tony closer to him. “After all, I wasn’t asking you to abduct me for forever. Just one night.” He kissed Tony’s temple lightly—just a little bit of gentle encouragement. “I want to see where you go every night. I want to see where you take your souls.” 

Tony side-eyed Peter. “Where I go can be dangerous for even a god.” 

Peter beamed. “Perfect! It’s been awhile since I’ve gone on an adventure.” 

“It’s not an adventurous kind of danger, Honey. More like the ‘if you slip on a pebble, you’re dead’ kind of danger.” 

“And wouldn’t dying bring me closer to you?” 

Tony huffed and backhanded Peter’s chest. Tony pushed himself out of Peter’s hold, stunning Peter with his sudden coldness. “I may be a death god, but don’t get any crazy ideas that by dying we’ll have eternity together.” Tony crossed his arms over his chest and looked off to the side. “Souls have different fates even after death, and there are some fates even a death god can’t tamper with.” 

“Then I promise I will be careful.” Peter erased the space Tony had created between them and cupped Tony’s face in his palms. Tony feigned annoyance, but the upward quirk of his mouth gave away his true feelings. “Just one night,” Peter repeated. 

Tony grabbed the hands cupping his face, but instead of pulling them away, he held them in place. “All right. I’ll probably regret this, but you can come with me.” He locked eyes with Peter. “As long as you promise to do everything I say. If I say stay close to me, then-”

“Tony, a command like that: you never have to worry about whether I’ll follow it or not.” To prove his point, Peter took what little inches separated them and embraced Tony. 

“I think I liked you more when you were a stuttering mess.” Tony lay his palms on Peter’s chest. He slid his hands past Peter’s breast, over Peter’s collarbones, and held Peter’s shoulders. 

“Please?” Peter persisted, his voice soft and and endearing. 

Tony sighed. He dropped one hand from Peter’s shoulder so he could rest his head there in its place. “You need a mask.” 

Pride and delight swelled in Peter’s chest. He felt invulnerable at that moment. With a swift peck on Tony’s forehead and a promise to return, Peter dashed into his room. He didn’t have a fancy or intricate mask like Tony, but he assumed any mask would do so long as it hid most of his face. Peter searched through his drawers for a thin piece of cloth or scarf that he could quickly fashion into a mask. When he found one, he cut eyeholes into the fabric and tied it around his face. 

When Peter returned to the balcony, Tony had lowered his mask—a crow one—and was poised to takes flight off the railing. Upon seeing Peter, he snorted in amusement. “Next time, I’ll bring a mask for you.”

“Next time?” Hope sprung in Peter’ s chest. 

“Maybe.” Tony outstretched his arm, inviting Peter to take his hand. 

Peter clasped Tony’s hand in his. 

Tony leaped into the sky and Peter followed. 

Peter marveled as he joined Tony in the sky. He felt weightless. He didn’t even feel Tony tug on his arm or drag him up. Instead, Peter was like a feather on the wind, and Tony was anchor. Except that wasn’t quite the right metaphor either. Tony didn’t just anchor Peter, he steered Peter through the sky and through the throng of souls. He was a guiding tether that kept Peter from drifting off into the vastness of space all alone. 

Tony whistled and skipped toward the westward sky. The souls vibrated with excitement and followed. 

Peter chortled. 

“So when do we get to dance?” Peter asked. 

“I was going to give you a few minutes to adjust,” Tony said.

Peter pivoted himself around Tony, and his body swung a little more outward than he anticipated. He grabbed Tony’s other hand and interlaced their fingers together. “Dance with me.” 

“You’re incorrigible.” The crow mask hid Tony’s face, but the warmth and adoration in Tony’s voice told Peter that Tony was smiling. That knowledge was compounded upon when with a few simple steps Tony lead them into a dance that kept Peter close and twirled them around the souls that shone like sapphires, amethysts, and diamonds. 

As they danced through the sky, they traveled at a speed far greater than the one Tony and the souls used whenever they passed over Peter’s home. Planets, stars, and moons sped past them as more souls trickled into the cluster to join Peter and Tony. Their speed spoke volumes, and in that moment, Peter knew that the first night he had seen Tony, the death god could have zoomed past Peter and ignored him, but for some reason Tony had slowed down. 

He’d intrigued Tony well before Peter had lured that one soul to him. 

Laughter flowed out of Peter. He rested his forehead on Tony’s and meet Tony’s gaze through their masks. “I love you.” 

“Of course you do.” Tony’s eyes shone as bright as the souls and stars around. “I love you too. Feel free to brag about it.” 

Together they laughed and danced through the galaxies, collecting and guiding souls as they went. What felt like wonderful and love-filled hours later, Tony put an end to their dancing and led them through a cloud of souls that hovered around a ring of rocks that floated in space. Monoliths stretched from the ring of rocks, and within the circle lights like an aurora glowed. 

The stray souls from the cloud shyly entered the aurora and disappeared with a streak of blue electricity. 

Tony held Peter’s hand tight as they neared the ring. “Don’t let go of me.” 

“What is that?” Peter pointed at the ring. 

“An entry point.” Tony flew them to the edge of the ring of rocks. He twirled his wrist languidly then gestured at the ring. Slowly, the souls they had been guiding through galaxies trickled past Tony and headed toward the center of the ring. “Death gods and the souls of the deceased can pass through to the land of dead. There are rumors about what happens when someone living passes through, and none of them are good.” 

Peter watched as the souls Tony had guided reached the red and green lights of the aurora and disappeared through the lights as if dipping into a stream. “And the souls hovering outside the passage?”

Tony shrugged. “Not everyone is ready to move on. Eventually, Howard and the other death gods will become impatient and send someone to force the souls through. I like to wait. It is always better if the soul can make the decision on their own.”

“Howard?” Peter wondered why Tony had specified Howard and not the other death gods. 

“My father.”

“Ah.” Peter paused for a moment, weighing if he should speak the comment on his mind. “Kind of ironic, isn’t it? A death god having a child? I mean, shouldn’t you guys be impotent or something?”

Tony cocked his head, and Peter would have given anything to be able to see Tony’s expression through the mask just then. “If that’s what you think, then I need to find a place where I can show you just how  _ potent _ a death god can be.”

A thrill raced up Peter’s spine as his blood rushed downward. He leaned into Tony. He took advantage of the fact that the crow mask left Tony’s ears uncovered, and brushed his lips across the shell of one ear. “I don’t see why we can’t go to the nearest planet now for your demonstration.” 

Tony shuddered and turned his head toward Peter. Whiskey eyes simmered with want, but Tony’s body was tense with something Peter couldn’t define. “I really shouldn’t.”

Peter looped his arms around Tony’s neck. He pushed Tony’s mask eskew just enough so he could kiss Tony’s cheek. “But I really want you to. Do you?” 

Tony’s arms wrapped around Peter’s waist. “I think you know the answer to that already.” 

Peter grinned. “Yeah, but it’s always nice to hear aloud. Even better when you show it.” 

Tony cursed. Suddenly they were soaring through space in the direction of the last planet they had passed on their journey. “Congratulations, Honey. I may be the smartest death god, but when I’m with you, I’m an idiot.” 

Peter hugged Tony tight, happiness blooming inside him. “Yeah, but as long as you’re my idiot, I really don’t care.” 

* * *

For weeks, Peter spent his nights with Tony. He’d join Tony among the stars, and together they would lead the souls to the passage to the land of the dead. Once they’d complete their task, the two would fly off to the nearest planet and spend an hour or more love making. 

Peter never wanted to stop. He loved dancing and (although it was quite rare) singing with Tony as they guided souls, but what he loved even more was the music he created when he was alone with Tony afterwards. As promised, Tony was quite potent, but he was also very responsive. Every touch brought forth a wondrous and beautiful sound from Tony. These sounds were the most addictive notes of music to Peter’s ears, and they were what made Tony his favorite instrument to play. 

Every morning he created songs through Tony that left his heart racing, and Tony and himself utterly fulfilled. 

Of course, when Peter confessed that Tony had become his new favorite instrument, Tony had taken it upon himself to show Peter that as the god of music, Peter was equally if not more of a magnificent instrument when it came to making fantastic music.  

These mornings left Peter drained, so by the time Tony returned Peter home, he was thoroughly exhausted. He did not normally need to rest every day, but as stated, Tony had proven himself quite potent and passionate. Because of that, Peter spent most of the day resting, only to awaken a few hours before Tony’s arrival. 

It didn’t take long for Ego to notice or comment. 

“You’re not making as much music as you used to,” Ego said as he appeared one evening from the shadows of Peter’s bedroom. 

Peter wrapped a blanket around his waist as he shuffled across his room to his drawers. He was feeling especially lazy and content today. He wanted to wear something a little looser. He did like teasing Tony with tighter clothing choices though. 

“Peter.” Ego tailed Peter as Peter went through his drawers. 

Peter huffed and held up a pair of pants while he eyed a skirted outfit. Tony would probably enjoy both. He could wear robes similar to Tony’s though. They would be loose and easy to remove. “I’ve played a few songs.” 

“You’ve strummed together a few notes each evening, but it is nothing compared to the symphonies you once wrote.”

“Am I not allowed a reprieve every now and then from making music?” Peter folded the pants back into place and examined the robes. “You know, inspiration doesn’t always come when it is convenient.” 

“That’s true.” Ego hugged his elbows as he looked at Peter in consideration. “However, I suspect that your lack of creativity isn’t because of lack of inspiration, but because of distraction.”  

Peter knew exactly what—or really  _ who _ —Ego meant by distraction. “Tony is the one who inspires me. Without him, I wouldn’t play a single note.” 

“Yes, but he takes you away every night and exhausts you so that you don’t create any music that measures up to the caliber of what you once produced.” 

Peter had enough. He whirled on his father, and said with every ounce of petulance in his being, “So?”

“‘So?’” Ego repeated. 

“So what? You might be my father, but you can’t force me to create music. That is not how it works.” 

Ego’s mouth turned downward. Cavernous lines crossed his forehead. “I see.” Ego shimmered and faded. “I will keep that in mind, just as I hope you will keep my words in mind.” 

Peter scoffed. “Sure.” 

Ego vanished, but Peter still glared for a few seconds afterward at the place where his father had stood. 

Peter took a deep breath and returned his attention to his clothing options. He would calm himself down before Tony’s arrival. He didn’t want to give Tony any reason to worry about him. 


	4. Chapter 4

Peter woke a few days later to sunlight streaming in through the balcony and hitting him in the face. Peter threw his arm over his eyes and squinted at the offending sunshine. His body was heavy with hours of sleep, yet if he were to believe the position of the sun, he’d only slept for an hour or two.

Peter grumbled as he rolled out of bed and performed what had become his evening ritual. As he finished belting his clothes, Peter paused and looked out at the balcony. He frowned at the midday sun. He felt so well rested for only a couple of hours of sleep. Then again, he was a god. Even if Tony had done a thorough job of wearing Peter out the night before, Peter had fantastic stamina, which was only being strengthened by their consist liaisons.

Grinning cheekily at his reasoning, Peter picked up the ryuteki on his dresser and began to play it. After a while, Peter grew bored of the ryuteki and switched to play string instruments. Before long, he had played many songs, yet the sun remained in high in the sky.

Worry gnawed at Peter. Setting his instruments down, Peter left his room and marched through the halls of the palace his father had built. The tall ceiling corridors were empty and his footsteps echoed through them. Peter reached the exit and pushed the large doors open.

A gust of fresh air greeted him, but he didn’t take the time to enjoy it. Peter headed toward the marble fountain were crystal water flowed, and at the center of the basin stood a grand statue of Ego in his human form. As Peter approached the fountain, he snatched a fragrant, magenta bloom from the bushes that hugged the palace. He plucked the pollen from the flower and smeared the yellow and sticky substance down the edge of the statue’s shadow.

Peter counted the seconds as he waited for the shadow to subtly shift.

When seconds turned to minutes and the shadow barely budged, Peter’s worst fears were confirmed.

Clenching his fists at his sides, Peter shouted, “Ego! What have you done?”

“What needed to be done, my son.” Ego’s voice came from directly behind Peter.

Peter whirled. “Stop being vague, old man.” Peter gestured at the sun above. “What is going on?”

Ego shook his head in parental disappointment. “You and Tony have distracted each other long enough. Both of you are failing in your duties, so you two needed to be separated.”

Righteous fury licked at the wounds Ego had created with his impetuous decision.“You have no idea what Tony does, or if he is doing it well or not.”

“No, but his father does. Howard and I agree; it is time for Tony to spend more time in the land of the dead, and it is time for you and me to move on and find a new solar system to inhabit for the time being.”

Peter’s knees quivered with the urge to buckle under the shock of Ego’s explanation. “You two decided?” The question came out breathless, and Peter sucked in a lungful of air to add strength to what he said next. “What about Tony and me? Why don’t we get to decide what it is we want to do? What gives you and Howard the right?”

“Besides the fact that you are our sons?” Ego scowled, but swiftly wiped away the expression. His anger could still be detected by the firm line of his mouth and the wrinkles in his brow. “I warned you, Peter. You weren’t performing your duties, and this is the consequence. This universe needs music.” Ego took on a more somber expression. “I would be a cruel god to deny it that.”

Peter did not hold back his bitterness as he responded. “You’re cruel. Just in a different way.”

* * *

As time passed, Peter grew to hate himself. His being begged for him to create music, but he refused. He had so much music welling up inside of himself—mournful melodies for a lost love—but he was bitter and greedy. Ego had taken Tony from him, and because of that, Peter was unwilling to share any part of himself. He could admit he was mostly being stubborn, but there was a part of him that felt to bare his soul and share his music would be a betrayal to Tony.

Ego and Howard had separated them in order for them to do their tasks. Creating music now would be to yield to their demands.

Peter’s heart and body ached for him create _something_ though.

Peter didn’t know which he hated more; the fact that he was so strongly compelled to make music even when he didn’t want to do so, or the fact that he wasn’t doing the one thing he was born to do with all his being.

He wished he could fly into space and search for Tony, but that was beyond his abilities.

Months passed and eventually Ego came to him. “When will you cease this foolishness?” Ego’s tone had taken on a wolf’s growl.

Peter paid his father little mind. Instead he stared out his balcony as the music he longed to play aloud sang in his mind.

Peter hummed in acknowledgement.

“You think this silent treatment of yours will change my mind?” Ego scoffed. “I have live eons longer than you, Peter. It will take more than a few months of stubbornness to dissuade me.”

Peter couldn’t bring himself to care.

Instead of fading away as Ego prefered to do, Ego stormed out of Peter’s room and slammed the door.

Peter raised an eyebrow at the door.

At least he wasn’t the only one throwing a tantrum.

* * *

Peter wandered the planet daily. Every now and then on his walks he would find something of interest that would make him consider building a ship and sailing off the planet. This idea was always crushed though. Even with all his saved materials, there were not enough for Peter to craft himself a vessel, and even if there were, Peter could not trust that he could make it fly.

He powers lay in music, not in building.

Whenever night fell, Peter would gaze up at the stars and wonder if Tony had escaped the land of the dead and was coming for him.

Every night the answer was no, but Peter still hoped.

* * *

Peter kicked a pebble into the blue-watered stream. An orange and silver fish jumped out of the water to catch the pebble in its mouth then flipped back into the flowing depths.

Peter let out an amused sound and kicked another pebble into the water.

“I have been talking to Howard.” Ego appeared at Peter’s side. He looked straight ahead, as if he rather ignore that Peter were there, despite the fact that he’d just spoken to his son. “It would seem Tony and you are a match in more ways than one. You are both quite stubborn.”

“I wonder where we get it from?” Peter stuffed his hands in the pockets of his coat.

“An excellent question. We’ll have to look into it.” Ego still refused to look at Peter, but his shoulders had relaxed. From the corner of his eye, Peter saw the beginnings of a fond smile on Ego’s face. “As I was saying, Howard and I-”

“Are once again making decisions without consulting the people involved?”

Ego scowled. “I understand you are angry, which is why I’m going to ignore that smartass remark, but one more of those and the deal I am about to offer you will be taken off the table.”

Intrigue prodded Peter.  Peter faced his father, and in return Ego met his gesture.

“One year,” Ego stated. “One year based off this planet’s current orbit. If you two can perform your duties for that long without any serious mess ups, then once the year has passed, you two may meet for one day—the length of day being based off of this planet’s current rotation.”

“One day!” A fire of indignation and righteousness burned in Peter. “You want us to be apart that long, only to see each other once a year?”

“A year is nothing to a god.”

“It is when you’re in love!” Peter shouted, unable to hold back his temper. He’d been pushed too far, and while he would give anything to see Tony again, he couldn’t simply accept Ego’s offer without at least arguing for more time together. He missed Tony sorely, and one day a year from now would not be enough to heal that pain.

Peter took a deep breath and ran his fingers through his hair. “This is all because we screwed up and didn’t do our jobs, right? So shouldn’t we get the chance to prove that we can be together without interfering with each other’s duties?”

Ego crossed his arms. “You make a valid argument; however, Howard and I are wary to put you two back together so soon. Your behaviors have been appalling, and while we are willing to compromise, we aren’t willing to reward selfishness. You two first must prove that you are serious about your duties before we can trust you around each other.”

Peter’s instinct was to argue, but it had been that same instinct that had caused him to snap at Ego when his father had first mentioned that he had been distracted by Tony. Peter reminded himself that he needed to remain calm and think intelligently. Ego was willing to bargain; Peter shouldn’t throw this opportunity away just because his pride wanted him to point out the fallacies of Ego’s reasoning.  

Silence passed between the two gods as both mulled over their situation.

“You really believe you love each other?” Ego asked.

“Yes,” Peter answered without faltering.

“I see.” Ego nodded. “Then I propose this: I give you the same bargain, but with a slight difference. For each year you two do your duties, you will be granted one additional day together. It will be difficult at first, but if you truly love each other, it will be worth it in the end. I will, of course, have to discuss this new arrangement with Howard, but he seems like a reasonable god, and I am sure he will see the benefit in altering the bargain we discussed.”

It wasn’t a perfect arrangement, but it was far better than what Ego had originally offered. In just a few decades Peter and Tony would be allotted a month of time together. In a century, it would be about a quarter of a year.

The deal wasn’t everything Peter wanted, but it was enough to give Peter hope, and that alone made it easier for Peter to breath.

Ego extended his hand toward Peter. “What do you say, Peter? Do we have a deal?”

Peter had known before Ego had asked exactly what his answer would be.  


	5. Chapter 5

Peter fidgeted with his sash and examined his outfit. He’d picked it out the day before so he wouldn’t stress about his choice the night of Tony and his reunion. However, the reasons he had picked it seemed stupid now. He’d been trying to show off his form while also trying to look regal and handsome; now he looked too showy and formal. He’d chosen his outfit because it was black as night with sections of shimmering silver that looked like stars. At the time, he’d thought the colors were a nice reference to their many nights together. 

He looked like a clown—a clown trying to look like someone of esteem. 

There wasn’t much time before midnight though, and he refused for his first meeting with Tony in over a year to start with him in the middle of changing his clothes. 

Peter paced his balcony as he played the flute. He focused on memories of the first time he’d seen Tony. He recalled the night he’d lured a soul away from Tony’s herd, and in doing so, he had brought Tony to him. Those memories quelled the panic that skittered across his nerves. He was able to stop pacing and just play his music. 

He closed his eyes and let himself be consumed by the sound. 

He was torn between something mournful and something joyful. He was so happy he could combust, but the year of loneliness still struck him every time he let his thoughts wander to it. 

He wanted Tony to hear how much he had been missed. He wanted Tony to hear how ecstatic he was to have the first of many more days with him. 

Peter manipulated his music to drift between the two emotions. He didn’t know which Tony would hear upon arrival, but Tony would know both his happiness and longing. 

A moonlit shadow crossed Peter’s and Peter brought his melody to an end. 

Tony stood on the railing, dressed the same way he had been the first night Peter had seen him, but with an exception. The fox mask that Tony had worn was pushed to the top of his head, allowing Peter to see the beautiful smile that consumed half of his face. 

“Been a while, Stranger,” Tony spoke softly, his joy contained, but simmering in his voice. 

Peter dropped his flute and marched to Tony. 

Tony jumped off the railing to meet Peter halfway, but only got two steps in before Peter crossed the distance between them to cup Tony’s face between his palms. “Too long, but worth it.” 

The smile on Tony’s face grew brighter. 

Peter couldn’t hold himself back anymore. He didn’t want to. 

Their lips rushed to meet each other, and it was the sweetest thing Peter had ever experienced. 

Peter hugged Tony, his embrace tight. When their day was over they wouldn’t see each other again for a year. Peter swore though, even if he couldn’t hold Tony in a physical embrace, he’d still hold Tony just as dearly in his heart until next they met.

He knew by Tony’s hug in return that Tony had made the same promise to himself. 


End file.
